The Last Miracle

The first that Henry knew something strange had entered his life was when the hairs on his neck stood straight up. He looked around the auditorium full of tweeners, accompanied by their parents and saw only the birthday girl was up front, looking bored. Then, he saw another girl standing off to the side in the shadows.

“And now, Enzo will perform his final miracle!” cried Bella, his assistant, a broad smile plastered on her face below stern blue eyes.

Henry shook himself.

“Of course! If you will…”

Bella pushed forward what was essentially a wardrobe on wheels, opening the doors to show an empty interior. Henry stepped inside with a flourish of his cape.

“I will now vanish from this world!”

A blond boy sitting next to the birthday girl muttered something that Henry barely heard.

“I know how he does this one. He crawls out through the bottom!”

Henry cleared his throat and continued, “Never fear! I will return momentarily!”

Bella closed the doors and Enzo the Magnificent performed his miracle. Bella opened the wardrobe showing it to be empty. There were a disappointing number of gasps from the audience, then a smattering of applause as Henry reentered the auditorium behind them. He stepped up to the stage and took a bow, hand in hand with Bella.

“Thank you! I will be at McNalley Theater next week!”

The audience was already filing out, the blond boy smirking at him as he left. He began packing his props into the wardrobe and saw the mysterious girl from the shadows next to him. She was perhaps twelve years old and slight, with black hair and eyes. Henry thought she might be of Korean descent. She was wearing a lavender sweater and jeans that were frayed at the knees.

“I liked your act,” she said.

“I think you’re the only one,” he said. “You like magic?”

“I would like to learn,” said the girl. “I’m Violet.”

She stuck out her hand and Henry shook it.

“Enzo the Magnificent,” he said with a flamboyant bow. “But you can call me Henry.”

“Hey, Henry,” said Bella. “You mind if I run? I have Aubrey this weekend.”

Henry nodded then turned back to Violet.

“You want to be an illusionist?”

Violet nodded.

“I read about your act. You performed in Paris.”

“That was a long time ago, kid,” he said. “And I’m not taking apprentices. Sorry.”

Two stagehands appeared and pushed the wardrobe toward the double doors. Henry followed, a cardboard box full of props in hand. Violet trotted next to him.

“But you can still do it, can’t you? I want to learn, and I need your help.”

“Help with what? I told you I’m not taking apprentices.”

They emerged into a gray afternoon, with clouds threatening to deluge the streets. The stagehands loaded the wardrobe into a van painted with Henry’s likeness.

“Look, if you want my advice…” said Henry turning to Violet, but she was gone.

Henry looked around but saw no sign of her. Nonplussed, he entered his van and drove away.

Late that night Henry was sipping a coffee at Dahlia’s Diner, listening to the rain pelt the windows.

“I’m taking the secretary job, Henry,” Bella had told him, her voice a mixture of regret and defiance. “I need a steady income to take care of Aubrey. I’m sorry.”

No amount of pleading would change her mind. As he sat in his booth, Henry caught his reflection in the napkin holder. He saw gray-going-white hair, a sagging chin, and eyes that were once bright now with dark rings and frown lines.

Let your thoughts go to the place where you are loved not only for your magic, but for your soul, and you can perform any miracle.

Those were the words of Henry’s own mentor, Marcus Magnus, who had performed for the queen of England. Henry wondered where Marcus’s soul was. These days Henry’s place was a dilapidated theater. Paris was decades in the past, and so were the cheering crowds who had attended his act.

The hairs on Henry’s neck stood up again, and he wasn’t surprised to see Violet sit down at his booth in front of him.

“You’re pretty persistent,” said Henry. “Why aren’t you at the party with your friends?”

“They’re not my friends,” she said. “I was there for you.”

Henry started to take another sip and noted sourly that his coffee had gone cold.

“It’s late. Where are your parents?”

“They’re not here. I need your help, Enzo – “

“It’s Henry.”

“Henry. I need you to show me magic.”

“Kid, there’s no such thing as magic. It’s all sleight of hand and misdirection. And I told you – “

“You’re not taking apprentices, I know. But I really need your help. They’re… they’re after me.”

“What are you talking about? Who’s after you?”

The girl lowered her eyes and spoke barely above a whisper: “Gladius Dei.”

“What is that?”

Violet had tears starting in her eyes.

“They killed my parents. And they’re after me!”

“You witnessed a murder? Go to the police!”

Violet shook her head violently.

“The police can’t help. They have people inside the police. They’re everywhere.”

“Hold on, kid. Why would these Gladius-whoever want to hurt you?”

Violet looked Henry straight in the eyes, and lowered her voice.

“I’m a witch. Gladius Dei are hunting me, like they do everyone like me.”

This kid needs professional help. And if her parents were really murdered…

“Look kid. You should really go to the police. I could take you there…”

Henry began to stand up, but Violet took his hand, and he felt something almost like electricity pass from her skin.

“Only you can teach me magic,” she said, looking into his eyes. “If you won’t, I’m dead.”

Violet stood up and fled from the diner.

“Hey wait! Violet!”

Henry ran to the street, but she was gone. Shaking his head, he returned to the booth and sat down, and was greeted by his coffee, steaming hot. Hadn’t it been ice cold a second ago? Henry put his head down on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. What had he gotten into?

The next day, Henry was back at Dahlia’s, his omelet growing cold in front of him. He shivered when a tall man with the coldest blue eyes he had ever seen sat down across from him. The man wore a priest’s collar, which was oddly black.

“Mr. Castelli?” said the man. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

Henry shrugged.

“I am Father Miles Claus,” said the man.

His mouth smiled, but his eyes were like an arctic wind.

“And what can I do for you?”

“You are Enzo the Magnificent, aren’t you? Quite an honor.”

“These days, it’s Henry the Mediocre.”

“Mr. Castelli, I represent an organization that takes an interest in gifted youngsters and places them in loving homes. I believe you have been contacted by a Violet Choe?”

Something bad rumbled deep in Henry’s gut.

“If I had?”

“This girl recently lost her parents. The experience caused her to break with reality.”

Henry nodded.

“Call Child Protective Services.”

“Indeed, but time is of the essence. Please contact me first if you see her again.”

Claus slipped a business card onto the table and stood up. Henry noticed the cane for the first time. The silver handle was plain except for an engraved stylized crucifix in the shape of a dagger. Claus nodded politely and left.

Henry picked up the card and the same symbol from the cane, along with the words “Gladius Dei.” A phone number was printed below. The bad feeling in Henry’s gut flared.

Henry spent the rest of the day drafting a help wanted ad for a magician’s assistant and dropping it off at the McNalley Observer’s offices. The weather had cleared, but the streets were wet. The light was fading as he walked home, and the thrill that raced up his spine and lifted his neck hairs was too familiar. He turned to see Violet standing behind him.

“Why don’t you believe in magic?” she asked.

“Kid, I’ve seen more things than you can imagine. But it would take a lot to convince me that magic is real.”

Even as he said this, he thought of his mysteriously re-heated coffee.

“I can feel it,” Violet whispered. “You want to believe the miracles are possible.”

“I don’t know about miracles, kid. But I know somebody’s looking for you. They visited me this morning.”

Henry pulled out the Gladius Dei business card and showed it to Violet, who flinched as if struck.

“That’s the witch hunters!” she said. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing. Look, I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but you should really get to a police sta…”

He trailed off when he saw a flash of silver reflect the last of the sun’s rays. Miles Claus rounded the block. Two priests flanked him. One was a woman with piercing black eyes and her hair pulled into a tight bun. The other was a man even taller than Claus and much broader. All wore black collars carried silver-handled canes.

“Let’s go,” said Henry. “Hurry!”

The two broke into a run for Henry’s house, where he drew Violet inside and locked the door.

“What are we going to do, Henry?”

Henry’s eyes ranged around the living room, past old event posters and piles of magical props until they stopped on the trick wardrobe.

“I have an idea,” he said.

He opened the wardrobe, then took Violet by the hand.

“Do you trust me?”

Violet nodded.

“Get in.”

Violet hesitated, then after looking into Henry’s eyes, she climbed inside.

“This is your lesson in magic, Violet. Go to the place where you are loved, not just for the magic, but for who you are. This is the time for your own miracle.”

Puzzlement showed through Violet’s terror, but she nodded. Henry closed the wardrobe just as a loud knock sounded at his door. He heard Claus’s voice.

“Open up in the name of God!”

A powerful kick burst the door open and the three priests muscled their way inside. Claus looked around, then turned his icy glare on Henry.

“So, you consort with witches,” he spat.

“Witches?” Henry scoffed. “Does this look like Hogwarts?”

Claus pulled the handle on his cane, revealing two feet of razor-sharp steel. The other priests also pulled swords from their canes and began searching the house, opening doors and cupboards.

“Don’t draw this out,” said Claus. “Tonight, Lucifer will have one less servant.”

“And you have one less can short of a sixpack.”

Claus’s glare intensified, then he noticed the wardrobe and grinned.

“Now, will God’s justice be done.”

Claus strode toward the wardrobe.

“No!” Henry cried, and leaped to intercept him, but a powerful arm wrapped around his throat, and a blade appeared next to his face.

“Don’t interfere with our work, magician,” rumbled the voice of the big priest.

Claus drew back his sword. As the blade flashed, a feeling of pure love and warmth poured from the wardrobe, almost overwhelming Henry’s fear, then vanished. Claus plunged his sword through the wardrobe’s door, then withdrew it. He whipped the doors open on an empty wardrobe. Face red with fury, Claus walked to Henry and held the tip of his sword nearly to his eye.

“Where is she?”

“Gone. Somewhere your kind doesn’t exist.”

“Search the whole house!” roared Claus.

He held his sword to Henry’s throat as his colleagues turned the house upside down, even prying up the floorboards. When they found nothing, Claus stood regarding Henry with ice cold rage.

“God will judge you, Mr. Castelli,” Claus hissed.

“Call me Enzo,” said Henry.

Claus sheathed his sword and walked out.

Henry nearly collapsed with relief. He went to the wardrobe, placed his hand on the old wood and felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

Word count: 1992